Scott sat up to look at Phin’s face. “No way! She took the baked potato too?”
“Yeah, I’m surprised she didn’t burn her mouth. When I took it from her, she tried to bite me.”
Scott shook his head at the unrepentant dog. “Bad Sister Mary Kathrine.”
“I put the food on a plate and walked back over and asked your grandma if she was missing her dinner. She was convinced a hawk must’ve taken it or maybe a coyote.”
“Or a bear.”
“Exactly. She never suspected a twenty-pound schnauzer. So I introduced her to Sister Mary Katherine. A dog raised in a convent by nuns turned into nothing but a thief. Oh, your grandma and I laughed. Well, she actually cackled. She had this deep, infectious laughter. Pretty much from then on, we were friends.”
He studied the old dog licking her paw. “I can’t believe she stole a steak and potato right off the grill.”
“Yes, she’s always been a pistol. Time mellowed her out, but I guess time mellows all of us out.”
They sat in a contemplative silence as a mass of twinkling stars appeared in the night sky. Scott had never been in Boy Scouts or gone camping. Having never been this far away from civilization, it still surprised him how much darker the sky was here, the stars brighter. Truly breathtaking.
When Phin spoke, it startled him. “You know, Mouse, you shouldn’t feel bad if you want to sell stuff in the house. It’s winter for Nancy, but it’s spring for you. She didn’t just leave you a house and a piece of property. It’s an opportunity to change something about your life. You shouldn’t feel guilty if you want to fix up the place and make it yours. And if you decide to sell it, no buyer will want that god-awful pink-striped wallpaper in the living room.”
Scott chuckled. “That wallpaper is awful.”
When Mom mentioned selling the house, it annoyed Scott because she wanted some of the money, feeling like it was her right after the way his father had treated her. However, when Phin mentioned selling the house, a feeling of sadness came over Scott.
“No,” Scott said, surprising himself by making up his mind so quickly. “I don’t think I’m gonna sell the house. Not just yet.”
In the fading twilight, Scott caught a glimmer of pleasure in Phin’s blue eyes when he smiled. Wordlessly Phin held up his glass in a toast, and Scott clinked it.
Feeling as if an enormous weight had lifted off his shoulders, Scott relaxed into Phin’s arms, the creaking of the chain and the high-pitched squeak of it rubbing the hook on the ceiling mingling with the soft sounds of the country at night.
Chapter Twelve
SWEAT TRICKLED down Scott’s back as he drove the lawn tractor through the thick grass. To his surprise, he really enjoyed this grass-cutting thing, being outside and alone with his musings. Much like his morning jogs, whether around here or on the paths in Gilead, he was starting to learn that he enjoyed being alone. And he really enjoyed riding the tractor.
Who would’ve ever thought he’d own a tractor?
When he circled back toward the house, he noticed the door to the playhouse flapping in the breeze.
How did that come unlatched?
Killing the engine, he parked the tractor next to the playhouse. The tiny latch was undone, the wind bouncing the door against the wall. Inside, bits of grass clippings littered the L-shaped countertop. Garden tools hung on one wall, and two little chairs and a plastic five-gallon bucket of water guns were tucked in the corner.
As he went to shut and latch the door, a red Solo cup with cigarette butts caught his eye. “So Grandma was a smoker.”
He picked up the cup from the floor and shut the door. After making sure it was latched, he headed to the house to pitch the cup. On the way back to his tractor, he spied Phin watering his garden.
Phin waved, wearing a big grin.
A tremor of excitement went down Scott’s back and settled somewhere in the vicinity of his lower abdomen. Deciding the grass could wait, he walked over.
“Hey, Mouse.” Phin pushed the garden hose behind him, moving over to the next garden bed.
“Whachya planting?”
“Green beans. Do you like those?”
“I love green beans.” Was this the prequel to another dinner invitation? He hoped so.
After their “date,” they’d said good night without a kiss or plans to do it again. Scott had been very tempted to invite Phin over, but he refused to be the pursuer. He was done chasing men—yeah, that’s why you came over here to flirt with the guy!
“I have venison chili simmering in the crockpot,” Phin said, not meeting his gaze. “Would you like to come over for dinner?”
Though more than a little dubious about eating deer meat, Scott couldn’t stop his grin. “I’d love to come over for dinner.”
COUNTRY UPDATE #41: Mr. Phineas went fishing on Lake Erie this weekend and gave me the honor of watering his garden. I even braved the chicken coop and gave the ladies fresh water and corn! That was an experience! I wasn’t brave enough to put my hands inside the roosts to look for eggs tho #babysteps I could be down with this farmer thing #citymouseinthecountry #farmboy
All the comments and Likes his Country Updates received still surprised Scott. He’d posted #41 three days ago, along with a selfie of him in Phin’s garden, and one of him inside the coop with the hens—sans the broilers Phin and his friend Karen had rounded up last week. She’d been a nice lady, middle-aged, overly tanned but with an infectious smile that left Scott feeling genuinely welcomed to Gilead.
It had been fun pretending to be a gardener, watering Phin’s garden for the two days Phin had been gone. It excited Scott to see how much bigger things grew, even in one day. He couldn’t wait to see it at the height of summer.
The update about the chickens had over two hundred Likes, mostly a bunch of jokey comments about Scott being Old McDonald, but also a few of Mom’s obnoxious remarks about moving home. He replied to the new comments—ignoring and not Liking Mom’s comments.
Yesterday’s post was stacking up Likes too.
Country Update #45: Have you ever had fresh perch fried in a cast-iron skillet? It’s amazing! And did you know you can make your own tartar sauce with pickle relish and mayonnaise? Oh yeah, Mr. Phineas makes his own mayonnaise too… read into that what you will LOL
The double entendre made a lot of people laugh, but too bad it wasn’t accurate. The only mayo Scott had gotten from Phin had been made with raw eggs and oil.
Damn the luck.
He’d been in the house a full month now. Phin had helped him with the tractor a few times. Though Scott knew how to use it, playing dumb was a nice excuse to talk to Phin. And the man was nowhere to be found on social media, so if Scott wanted to find out anything about him, he would have to talk to him.
It wasn’t weird to rush outside when Phin got his mail and pretend it was an accident, was it?
Somewhere between spying on Phin through the window, sorting out the junk in the house, and trying to come up with quirky Country Updates, he’d become somewhat obsessed with Phineas Robertson.
He didn’t know if he was being annoying or a creeper, but Phin must’ve trusted Scott if he asked him to water his precious vegetables and feed the chickens last weekend. And then he made fish for them and a salad using his fresh lettuce. It had been delicious.
They’d had dinner together five times since their first night—not that Scott was counting—and each time they laughed more than anyone should. The last two times, Scott insisted on bringing the wine because he didn’t want to be a mooch. Once again, to his very pleasant surprise, Gilead had more treasures than first met the eye. Though a small grocery, the Village Market had a nice variety of gourmet foods and a killer wine selection. The manager Connie was very well versed in varietals and vintages, helping Scott pick out wines and some complimentary cheeses that had really impressed Phin.
Not enough to earn Scott a kiss, though.
Yes, they flirted, but after that near-kiss, there had bee
n nothing more than a friendly arm around Scott when they sat on the porch or a soft touch on the leg or arm. Not really cuddling, and definitely no kissing or sex. It was driving Scott crazy, being so unsure of where they stood, because every time he saw Phin, he wanted to hug him and kiss him. Phin was a bit on the chubby side, and Scott dreamed about being wrapped up in all that warm cuddliness. But he didn’t want to make a wrong move and spook the guy.
Or worse.
Discover Phin wasn’t interested.
With a sigh, Scott logged out of Facebook. He needed to eat something before his run. He wanted to drive up to town and get a burger at the Riverbend Diner, then run the river trails, but he really should watch his calories. Phin might not use preservatives, but that didn’t equate to low-cal. Scott needed to reserve his calories just in case he got another dinner invite.
So he poured a bowl of cereal instead, glancing out the window to see if Phin was outside. No luck yet. When he went to the fridge for milk, he drew up short.
“What the…?”
The creepy granny doll was gone.
He tilted his head to the side. He didn’t remember getting rid of it.
Then again, he’d dumped off four boxes of junk at a local church after he saw their sign about donations for a fall rummage sale. Maybe he’d tossed the doll in one of those boxes as an afterthought and just forgot.
He did hate the thing.
“Good riddance,” he said, grabbing the milk.
Cleaning out the house had almost become a full-time job.
His editor would’ve called it procrastinating.
Per Phin’s advice, Scott opened every box, jar, and bottle before he pitched it. Sure enough, he’d found more money. Cleaning the house had turned into a treasure hunt. The fifteen hundred bucks in a Sweet’n Low box had been like winning the lottery. Though he wanted to put it on his credit card, Scott did the smart thing and opened a savings account at Gilead National Trust. He might own the house outright, but there were still taxes to consider.
More than just finding money, Scott was getting a sense of the kind of woman his grandmother had been as he sorted through her things. She’d had a passion for romance novels, Julia Roberts’s movies, and Precious Moments figurines. He’d found a grocery list with things she’d written, like “Whisky, who would forget that? Ha-ha” or “Real butter for finicky Phin.”
Nancy had been a funny lady.
After rinsing his bowl, he put the earbuds in his phone. Antsy for his morning run, he slipped on his shoes and headed out.
The road he and Phin shared was County Road 6-B, a small cut-through between Rd 6 and 5-6. Not really a road, more of a thin stretch of tar-sprayed gravel—the county’s idea of paving. It didn’t even have yellow or white lines. But the three-mile country block rolled ever so slightly, making for a great workout.
Fields of tiny corn and soybeans surrounded him as he headed out to the “main” road—though the only thing that made Rd 6 a main road was the yellow dots painted every fifteen feet down the center.
Phin had placed a hand-painted sign on the corner with the words “Eggs 4 Sale” and an arrow pointing toward his house.
Scott smiled. Phin had been very excited his Sussex hens, the fluffy white ones, had finally started laying. But two dozen eggs a day was more than he could eat, so he sold the extras. Scott had even bought some, though Phin had balked at taking his three dollars. Phin kept the eggs in a cooler on his front porch next to a small wooden chicken cut-out with “$3 a doz” painted on her white belly. To Scott’s shock, people would just randomly stop by and put their money in a coffee can and help themselves. No one even stole the money!
Only in Gilead.
Feeling warmed up, he paused by the egg sign to stretch. Then he froze.
“Is that…?”
He squinted in the sun at the plants growing in the ditch running parallel to the road.
Much to his shock, he saw a rhubarb plant.
He moved closer and couldn’t believe his eyes. It was exactly like the ones by the barn.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
Seized with excitement, Scott returned to his run.
When he got home, he would drive over here and dig it up!
Phin would be so happy when Scott replaced his precious rhubarb plant. He had a birthday coming up and this would be a great gift!
He made great time on his run, bounding up his driveway in record time. Too excited about the rhubarb plant, he went directly to the barn to get the shovel. He’d been doing a little organizing out there too, but when he approached the large garbage pail full of yard tools, the shovel wasn’t there.
Turning his head this way and that, he squinted in the dark.
“I can’t see anything,” he muttered. Maybe he should take some of the money he’d found in the house and get electricity out here.
He spied the shovel leaning on the back wall next to the sledgehammer.
“That’s not where I left either of you,” he told the tools. Maybe Phin had borrowed them.
After grabbing the five-gallon bucket and the shovel, he left the barn. He hoped Phin didn’t see him as he hurried inside for the keys to his Honda. Nancy had left him the MKZ, but he didn’t want to get the new car dirty. He’d listed his old Civic on Craigslist, but so far no bites.
He still couldn’t believe he had a new car—with a warranty! While Scott wouldn’t have picked a tan car, the Lincoln’s charcoal-and-tan leather interior was amazing!
Digging up the plant while wearing running shoes wasn’t as easy as he’d expected. He needed to buy a pair of work boots if more stuff like this was in his future. Sweating, he only stumbled once—unfortunately landing on his ass in the mud. But he was determined to get this plant for Phin. The rhubarb had a deep tuberous root that took a while to dig up.
“How did you get out here, anyway, plant?” he asked, well aware he’d developed a habit of talking to himself. Maybe a bird pooped out the seeds.
Enormously pleased with the size of the rhubarb, he put it in the bucket. When he placed it on the floor of the passenger side, it reached clear over the gear shift. Though sweating and filthy, he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as he drove home. He hid the bucket on the side of the porch Phin couldn’t see from his yard.
This is gonna be awesome!
Stinky and dirty from his run and digging, he dashed upstairs and showered. Checking his hair in the mirror after he dried off, he smiled. Gary, the barber in Gilead, was a magician with the clippers. He’d never had such a great haircut.
Bouncing with excitement, he dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. It was still too cool for shorts. He practically ran downstairs, his stomach rumbling. He scarfed down another bowl of Cap’n Crunch, then quickly washed and put away the dishes. Since becoming a homeowner, he’d kinda become obsessed with keeping the sink clean and found a lot of pride in a tidy house. It was a crisp morning, and he had all the windows open to let in the May breeze. He’d done a lot of dusting and cleaning, and the fresh air was a huge help in carrying away the old-lady smell.
Looking out the kitchen window at Phin’s house, he smiled. He couldn’t wait to see the expression on Phin’s face when he gave him the rhubarb!
Outside, a strange sound caught his ear.
Is that a chicken? He leaned into the window above the sink and looked down at the flower bed.
A fat brown hen sat in the daffodils. He watched her for a moment, then she got up, clucked loudly, and scurried back to Phin’s yard.
Much to Scott’s surprise, she’d left a brown egg in the flower bed.
Chuckling to himself, he tore off a paper towel.
This day is just full of surprises, isn’t it?
He slipped on his flip-flops, grabbed his phone, and went outside. The grass tickled his ankles as he snapped a pic before retrieving the warm egg with the paper towel.
“No one’s gonna believe this.”
He’d seen Phin washing eggs before, so he went
back inside and washed it, then placed it on a plate on the table. Could he eat it? He knew nothing about chickens and had only bought eggs. How did Phin tell the difference between an egg with a baby chicken inside it and an edible egg?
Country update #51: Mr. Phineas’s chicken laid an egg in my bushes this morning! Can you believe it? Maybe this is her thank-you for feeding and watering them last weekend!
After tweaking the filters, he added the pic to the post with the hashtags #giftsfromachicken #morningsurprises #eggbomb and #citymouseinthecountry.
Instantly he received an angry Like on the post.
He was startled until he saw who did it.
His editor.
Sharon Parker: Are you playing on Facebook when you are supposed to be finishing a book?
Busted!
The book was due May 1—as in two weeks ago. It was finished, but Scott wasn’t pleased with it, and he had no idea why. His heroes had already overcome obstacles, brought down the drug ring, had their babies, and united the planet to find their happily ever after. Scott never intended to write the real-life drama of married people into an action-packed science-fiction romance. Giving Derrek a secret baby and an old girlfriend seemed like a good idea at the time, but S’Jon being a jealous prat didn’t ring true. They were kings, for crying out loud!
Scott was half tempted to send the grammatically correct manuscript off to his editor and have her figure out what was wrong with it.
He quickly sent a response.
You will have the book Friday. Impatient! Impatient! :-)
That sounded cute enough, right?
A knock on the door made him jump.
He looked over his shoulder and saw Phin on the enclosed back porch. His heart leaped at the sight of him. Though perfectly natural for Phin to come onto the porch, it was too early to walk into the house without knocking.
The Rhubarb Patch Page 10
